


Unfinished Business

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, almost, more like office fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2019-08-27 11:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: Jack uses unscrupulous methods to address some unfinished "business" with Lemon.





	Unfinished Business

He has his hand down Lemon’s pants. Which is not a place Jack ever thought his hand would be. Or should be. His relationship with Liz Lemon was never based on what was in her pants. Or his, for that matter. It would be a lie to claim that he’d never viewed her in a sexual light, or considered touching her in a sexual way. Liz was, after all, the woman closest to him, both logistically and emotionally. And truthfully, she was not as hideous as they both at times preferred to insist.

Still, Jack never imagined that one morning, a morning just like any other morning, after Liz sauntered casually into his office to discuss a new add campaign, he would calmly close his office door, back her against it, unbutton her jeans and put his hand inside. Neither of them thought he would ever do that. This did not stop him from doing it, however. Or from enjoying it. And the only thing he enjoys more than the scratch of denim against the hairs on his arm or the soft cotton against the back of his hand or the warmth that greets his delving fingers is the look of soft surprise and sudden arousal that Liz, for the life of her, cannot hide.

Her eyelashes float downward before lifting, eyes meeting his. “Jack…” she breathes, voice faltering: “What…what the hell are you doing?”

And frankly, he can’t help but admire her ability to ask the inanest of questions even at a time like this, even when his hand is down her pants, searching for buried treasure. “I thought it would be obvious,” he replies, his voice emerging lower, rougher than even he expected: “…what I’m doing.”

She shakes her head, the gesture infinitesimal, her eyes remaining locked with his. “No…”

Jack hums, looks down. He sees his hand disappearing into her pants -- just the sight is arousing -- and he must admit this is a rather unusual situation for them. For one thing, this is not his usual way of seducing women. He usually has far more tact, more finesse. But after years of denial, it seems he is finally, very suddenly ready to acknowledge that Liz Lemon is a woman -- and more importantly, that she is a woman he’s interested in seducing. Very interested, as it happens. This fact seems to come as more of a shock to her than it does to him. Though perhaps a part of him always knew.

Jack looks up again, looks her right in the eye – those muddy, intense eyes which widen each time his fingers even twitch against her. “I want to come over tonight,” he tells her. “Invite me to your place, Lemon.”

She blinks, her stomach fluttering against his arm as she sucks in a breath. “You want to--?” She blinks again, brows drawing together. “Why? What for?”

His eyes drop to her mouth as, down below, his middle finger slides a little deeper, finding her centre and pressing against it. “Why do you think?”

“I, I don’t know,” she stammers, her breath hitching.

Jack moves closer – he can’t believe he’s touching her this way and there is still space between their bodies. He closes it and lowers his head so his mouth is hovering near hers. “For this,” he murmurs after a heated pause. Then he deliberately slips a finger inside her.

Liz’s eyes widen, then snap shut, a quiet moan escaping her throat. Jack’s face remains right in hers, mouth hovering, eyes taking in her every expression, her every, tiny reaction, her incremental surrender. He breathes the soft puffs that expel from her mouth, lips close enough to kiss, to convince, to seduce, if he wanted. He wants. He really, really wants. But not yet.

“Jack--” One of her hands flies up, desperately grasping onto his jacket lapel. “I…I need to think about this. I need time. To…think.”

“I think it needs to be tonight,” he replies, soft but sure. “But I will give you time.”

She nods, eyes closed, her grip on his jacket receding. “Okay…Okay, good.”

“I will give you,” he goes on, his free fingers teasing her outer lips: ”six seconds. To think.”

Liz looks up quickly, meeting his eyes.

But before she has time to protest, Jack withdraws his finger from her tunnel. “Starting now.” Then slowly plunges it back in. “One.”

Her mouth drops open.

He pauses. Then pulls out again. Slowly. “Two.” And pushes back in.

She bites on the corner of her lip to suppress a whimper, now fisting his lapel in her hand.

Jack pulls out again. “Three.” And slides back in, his thick finger penetrating her this time as deeply as he can go. “Halfway there, Lemon.”

Her head drops forward to his chest. “Oh my God. Don’t...”

He looks down at her hair falling over his shirtfront, her shoulders expanding with her deep breaths. “Ah, you’ve made a decision.”

Her head shakes against him. “No, just…Really. Stop it. I’ll--”

His middle finger remains buried as his thumb finds and swipes her clit just once. “You’ll what?”

“God,” she groans, muffled. “Don’t you dare, Jack, don’t…”

His thumb repeats the action, making her squirm and tense. “Don’t what?”

“You know what,” she mumbles, breathless but annoyed.

Jack does it again, then again, pumping her softly at the same time. “Do I?”

Her head falls back and her cheeks are suddenly pink, her eyes dark with astounding arousal. And it hits him. He is looking down at his friend’s face while a part of him, a small part, but part of him is inside of her. While his hand is in her pants and his fingers are exploring the part of her he’s always tried to deny wanting. While he has her trapped against his door and she’s leaning into him, clinging to him, panting against him, their bodies locked in a delicious battle.

“You know what,” Liz tells him again, a warning in her tone. “Don’t, Jack.”

Jack’s fingers start to work her in a rhythm, a gentle, persistent rhythm. “Don’t what? Make you come? Don’t make you feel good? Don’t make you feel naked when I haven’t removed a strip of your clothing? Don’t make you climax on my fingers, make you squeeze them, drip all over them? Don’t make you moan and pulse in excitement when Jonathan and three balding executives are sitting just beyond this door, counting the seconds, waiting for us to finish?”

“Yes,” she swallows, frantically bobbing her head. “Yes to aaaall of that. Don’t you dare--” She swallows again: “Do any of it, Jack.”

“So invite me over,” he responds, mouth curling upwards. “Ask me, Lemon. Ask me tonight. Ask me nice.”

She shakes her head. “Why does it have to be tonight?”

Jack runs his eyes over her face -- and briefly considers re-starting the countdown. “Because we’ve been dancing around this for years. And I say we end it. It’s time, Lemon. I’m done, I’m ready. Let’s finish this. Let’s finish it tonight.”

She regards him for a moment in silence, her chest rising and falling heavily. “You’re…serious? You want to--?”

Jack takes a breath, the tension of having to restrain himself fraying. “Is there anything about my current, ah--” he glances down, then back up again: ”placement which leads you to believe I’m not perfectly serious?”

She shakes her head. “No, but--”

He leans in, murmurs against her lips: “But what?”

Her lips part for him, so ready for him. “You really want to do this? You really want to do…” She glances down at herself, her trapped, panting body: “This?”

His jaw clenches, even as he smiles. “You doubt that? You want proof?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I--”

He smiles wider. “Because I can give you proof.”

He hesitates, holds her eyes for a moment before he moves his free hand from where it’s been keeping the door shut, covering the hand that’s twisted in his clothes. Her hand loosens voluntarily and she allows it to be guided downwards. He waits for her resistance but doesn’t feel it. His hand slows as they reach his belt buckle and he sees her shoulders rise, her eyes drop away and her breath hold. But she still doesn’t object as he slides her hand down over his groin, cups her hand as she cups him.

“There’s your proof,” he says with a voice like gravel. “That…can’t lie.”

Her eyes flick up to his and Jack draws his hand out of her pants, rests his wet fingers on her bare stomach. Because he can barely stand to focus on the two sensations at once. Him touching her. Her touching him. And he wants to. Focus on it, absorb it, relish it. For a man who has experienced plenty of carnal delights in his time, this simple exchange is a stimulation overload for him.

His fingers graze the back of her hand, drift up her lowered arm, leaving her hand on him, alone. He’d like to keep it there, press her closer, he’d like to feel her skin against his, her hand inside his pants just as his was inside hers. But just the simple touch she gives him is enough. Enough to make him groan, enough to make his knees want to wobble and his eyes want to close. Enough to make him harden further and ache for more. He is pleased when she doesn’t yank her hand back right away, and surprised when she actually starts to stroke him, softly, hesitantly, through his pants. He is about to release her name on a moan when a sharp rap on the door interrupts them.

“Mr Donaghy?” Jonathan’s voice floats through the door, suspicious and neurotic.

Jack’s palm slams against the door again, making it rattle. Liz snatches her hand away, turns around, closing in on herself.

He takes a breath, before hissing through the wood: “Yesss, Jonathan?”

“Your eleven o’clock is waiting, sir,” his assistant answers.

“Thankyou!” he calls, leaning over Liz who cowers against the door, wagging her head and muttering to herself. “Just give me a minute. I’m…finishing up with Lemon.”

“Yes sir,” Jonathan calls back before moving away to see to the men waiting on him.

Liz presses her hands flat against the door, bangs her forehead against it once then buries her face in them. “Oh my God…I can’t believe…Oh my God.” One hand curls about the doorknob, her shoulders slouched with degradation as she starts to twist it. “I’m gonna go now, I…I gotta go now…”

Jack keeps his hand pressed to the door. “You can’t.”

“I can,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Why can’t I?’

“Because…” Jack slowly circles her body with his hands and starts to re-zip and button her jeans.

Liz relaxes a little as he does, letting out a breath. When he is done, he moves his hands to her arms, draws her back into him. He sweeps her hair back, tucks his face against her shoulder and closes his eyes as he kisses her neck. Once, his mouth open and hot. He feels her react, feels her relax, acquiesce, enjoy. He even feels the fingers of one hand skate shyly up his flank.

“So,” he murmurs in her ear: “…tonight?”

Liz is still, their bodies pressed together, breathing together. She nods silently.

“Say it,” he urges gently. “You need to say it.”

She nods again, wets her lips before answering softly: “Okay. Yes. Come over tonight. I want you to. We have…business to finish. So. Let’s finish it.”

Jack releases her. “Shall we say eight?”

“Will there--” She cuts herself off as she turns to face him, then smiles and asks him hesitantly: “Just to be clear, is there gonna be more hands-down-pants action?”

“Definitely not,” Jack answers. “No. But only because there will be no pants.”

“I see, okay.” She gives a little nod: “Good to know.”

“Well then,” he murmurs, leaning in to open the door. “I’ll see you at eight. I’ll look forward to it. All day, in fact.”

“See you then,” she replies, laughing nervously: “without pants on.” She starts to leave as he opens the door, only to duck back in to clarify: “And by that, I just meant--”

Jack smiles. “I know what you meant. And I will be properly attired, I assure you.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “Me too.”

He cocks his head, lowering his voice so no one in his waiting room will overhear him tell her: “Not for long, Lemon.”

Liz blinks, blushes and abruptly disappears, hiding a part baffled, part pleased smile. Jack tells Jonathan to give him a moment, which he takes to gather himself and straighten his clothing. Not in a long while has he had such an interesting or unexpected start to the day. But he expects the end of his day is going to be even better. And well worth waiting for.

 

_END._

For more of my "30 Rock" fanfic go [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/812100/Mindy35)


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